


Get Back Something You'd Forgotten

by sparkle



Category: Gintama
Genre: Alcohol, GinHijiGin week, Light Angst, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Smoking, Spoilers: Post-Shogun Assassination Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 15:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5670556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkle/pseuds/sparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drinking alone was a drag, but drinking with weirdos who singled out men who looked like they might have passed out was way worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Back Something You'd Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Written for GinHijiGin Week day 7: Reunion

Drinking alone was kind of a drag, Gintoki thought.

The night hadn’t started out that way. Gintoki had run into Hasegawa at the pachinko parlor, and Hasegawa had offered to take him out for drinks to celebrate getting some crappy temp job; it was weird how much things seemed to stay the same, Gintoki thought. So, they had gone somewhere crowded—not that Gintoki thought anyone was still looking for him _(after him)_ at this point, but he felt better in a place where he could disappear into the crowd regardless—and ended up seated at the bar next to a group of boisterous, talkative young women who had insisted on buying drinks for Gintoki and Hasegawa.

But now, Gintoki practically had the bar to himself. Hasegawa had left already, claiming a need to be up early for his new job the next day. So had the women, although one of them had stayed behind after her friends to flirt with Gintoki, all soft eyes and long, honey-colored hair and gentle touches on his arm. Eventually she had left, too, saying she needed to work in the morning, but Gintoki suspected her leaving was more related to his pretty obvious disinterest. She had been cute, but he hadn’t been in the mood to exert much effort flirting back.

Maybe if she’d pushed a little harder, he thought, but he didn’t follow the idea to its conclusion.

Gintoki’s head felt too heavy for his neck, even with his chin propped on his hand. He hadn’t had much to drink, but he hadn’t had much to eat that day, either. What’s more, he wasn’t much of a drinker anymore, period. On an empty stomach, and without his once-godly—or at least middling—alcohol tolerance, Gintoki was a bit of a mess.

_ (A couple years back Gintoki had become, uncharacteristically, somewhat of a paragon of moderate drinking behavior. It had taken him almost a year to finish that top-shelf stuff that Hijikata had left behind at the set meal shop. He had kind of thought for a while that maybe if he saved it for special occasions, really took his time with it, maybe— _

_ maybe by the time he finished— _

_ but— _

_ no— _

_ Anyway, moderation had become something of a habit after that.) _

Gintoki let his head slide from his hand to the cool, sticky surface of the bar; let his eyelids drift shut. Dizziness washed over him. He wondered if the barman would kick him out soon. He wondered if that woman he’d talked to earlier would have taken him home if he’d asked.

God, he was going to feel like hell in the morning, and Kagura and Pattsuan were going to  _ love _ making fun of him for it, those little shits. 

The stool next to Gintoki’s scraped loudly against the floor and a bottle thudded on the counter next to his elbow, interrupting his idle thoughts. The whole rest of the bar was free, he knew, so whoever sat down obviously wanted to talk to him, to bother him. Who did that? Drinking alone was a drag, but drinking with weirdos who singled out men who looked like they might have passed out was way worse. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, they would go away.

Or would that make them want to stay more?

Unsure of what to do, Gintoki kept his eyes closed.

The acrid smell of stale cigarettes wafted into Gintoki’s nostrils, and a flicker of nostalgia bloomed sharply in his brain. It smelled like—

no—

stop—

_ he’s gone _ —

_ (This seemed to happen every time Gintoki went out. Lots of people smoked in bars, after all. The first couple months after— _

_ after— _

_ Sometimes Gintoki’s gut still clenched when he thought about_ after what. _The first couple months had been especially bad, though. Every time Gintoki had smelled tobacco he’d looked for that bastard, even though he had known it couldn’t be him. The shit they had gotten into wasn’t going to be resolved in a few months, or even years, maybe—god—maybe never._

_ But even now, two years later, he sometimes thought it might be— _

_ And maybe this was another reason he didn’t go out drinking so much anymore—) _

Gintoki started when a hand settled on his back, heavy and warm. His heart flipped stupidly in his chest, but he didn’t open his eyes.

Couldn’t.

If this was his mind playing tricks—and he was pretty drunk, god, it would’ve been easy to mistake—

The cigarette smell got stronger and a familiar, gravelly voice spoke close to Gintoki’s ear. “Yorozuya,” it said, “aren’t you going to welcome me home?”

Gintoki’s head shot up so fast that he bashed Hijikata’s chin, and would’ve knocked him off his stool if he hadn’t grabbed Gintoki’s sleeve to steady himself. If Gintoki wasn’t already going to have a headache in the morning, this would do it, he thought. 

Gintoki grinned up at Hijikata, who was rubbing his jaw, who was pursing his lips like he was trying not to smile back, who was _finally here,_ still touching Gintoki’s sleeve and leaning into his space like he used to. He looked a little tired, a little older, Gintoki thought, but he looked _good._

“You look like shit, Oogushi-kun,” Gintoki said, quietly.

Hijikata laughed, then cupped the back of Gintoki’s neck and bumped their foreheads together.

“Thanks,” Hijikata said, his smoky breath warm across Gintoki’s lips.

Gintoki’s eyes suddenly felt hot with tears. Maybe he had hit his head harder than he thought.


End file.
